The roast dinner review has landed. I’ve also landed back from a Prosecco drinking competition otherwise known as 4pm at work on a Tuesday afternoon. Now I’m expected to write a review of my roast dinner at The Eagle at Ladbroke Grove. FYI – marginally NSFW.
I have to write it tonight as I’m out tomorrow night too. I guess I could publish it on Thursday, but most of you don’t care about where I’ve been by time Monday has passed. Your focus is on the next line of cocaine. My focus is on the last line of ketamine. They don’t combine together. Know what I mean? No I don’t either.
Let’s just agree that I don’t know how to start this review. The Eagle is a pub. In Ladbroke Grove. Which is west of Paddington. 3 stops west. I had to pick my friend up from Paddington as he is unable to use a tube train unaided – however he is very capable at attracting the attention of the police. Despite being white. Oi snowflake – don’t report me to Facebook (like they care) – this is me saying the police are racist. Read it properly you fucking moron.
I really don’t know where this is going. Can you tell I’ve had a few drinks? I’ve got a pie in the oven. I’m also obese. I also bought a pack of mince pies.
I should delete all this. The Eagle was a nice pub with a bar in the middle and a large eagle looking over the bar in the middle. With tables around the outside of it. In Ladbroke Grove. Want to see a picture of it?
This isn’t the best view of the room, but it is the only one I took. Also see my thumb. How sexy is my side-thumb, ladies?
Who is Pickle Rick?
What else do I need to tell you? They sold Neck Oil. The table was right next to where the bar staff kept going to get stuff from and where my friend decided to relieve them of at least one food order ticket. He did buy me a gherkin sponge.
Ah fuck this. I know what you want. You want a Guess The Lingerie Shop competition.
I hope you appreciate my effort at diversity here, with a plus-size model and a black women.
Just drop a note in the comments with which store you think each of the numbered models belongs to. The stores are Agent Provocateur, Ann Summers, Bluebella, Lovehoney & Rigby And Peller.
First one to guess them all right wins a prize. Seriously. I’ll send you a prize. [Two days later – I have no idea what fucking prize am I offering]
Roast dinner review?
According to a review on Google, The Eagle used to do roast dinners for £10 three years ago. Gosh, three years seems an awfully long time ago, doesn’t it?
Well I miss you, Dave. Even if nobody else does.
As you may have guessed, they certainly don’t do roast dinners for £10 now.
As you may also have guessed, I forgot to take a photograph of the menu. However, thanks to the internet, you can find out what they used to serve and the price that they used to charge for it at some point in the past.
I think the options were beef, lamb and chicken. I didn’t really have time to look as the two most talkative people in the world were sat both to my left and to my right, despite one of them turning up 40 minutes late as she walked the wrong way. I tried introducing her to Google Maps, but her phone didn’t work. Yeah, great joke, Lord Gravy.
Anyway, the barman recommended the chicken – I hadn’t reviewed a chicken roast for a while so I went for it. For some reason I think it was £17. I could be wrong – I really have no idea.
£17 might seem steep for a chicken roast dinner but one of those lingerie outfits was £395. Seriously. I’ll never look at a roast dinner menu with bulging eyes ever again. £395. For a bit of lace and a few straps. You need to be having multiple affairs to even consider buying that for your wife.
By the way, you know that I am completely asexual? However, if you are an attractive young woman from Spain, Italy, Portugal, Colombia, Mexico, Argentina, Chile, Peru, Brazil or Saudi Arabia, wearing stockings and suspenders may just help me become less asexual. Let me just double-check what asexual means…
Maybe I’m incel.
Are you aroused now?
Well, it is time to knock that on the head, starting with the red cabbage. Never my favourite vegetable – I guess it was decent enough, but I just don’t like the taste and potential for pollution of the gravy.
Sweden Is Hell
That it didn’t do too much, but the swede took it to another level. For the swede was basically puree but rimmed the edge of the whole plate quite substantially – it was impossible to separate it from the gravy as it was so mushed.
Now, I expect my gravy to have more consistency than this, let alone a root vegetable to have this lack of consistency. Had it been in one corner, it would not have been an issue – however this merged with the gravy to create a sweet, swede gravy – with flecks of red cabbage that I’d not been able to procure. That isn’t something that makes me happy.
There was one half of a vertically-sliced carrot, which was softly roasted – and tasted of…yes…swede.
I guess it was a nice change to have two ordinary pieces of cauliflower without cheese (or allegations of cheese at many places). Decent enough.
*** Two days later ***
Jesus, what is this bilge that I’ve written? Clearly, the best thing to do is to spend my time scrutinising this and releasing the review when it is ready, however the people demand this review is released by 24th October and the will of the people must be respected.
Two very large roast potatoes were provided and I thought they were reasonable efforts. They were a little dry inside but they were at least crispy, if perhaps also a tad tough. Maybe I’m being too kind – my accomplices criticised the roasties far more than I did. Maybe I’m just too used to shit roast potatoes. However, I do think these were acceptable.
The Yorkshire pudding was broadly acceptable too. Large – of course, as will be the case until most of the millennials have kids and don’t have time for Instagram any more. It was more crispy around the edge than I’d have preferred…I’ve had better…I’ve had worse.
I went for the chicken as recommended by our waiter. The breast looked small (my accomplice’s was so small that he requested more…well, he didn’t as he is too polite – my crazy friend, erm, arranged this for him) but was actually quite plump and well-textured. The leg was actually on the small side but juicy enough. You could say the chicken was…acceptable?
Two of my accomplices had the beef, and it looked and tasted far nicer, one accomplice calling it “beautiful”. Not sure I’d go that far from the one bite I had, but it was very nice.
Believe it or not, I was also accompanied by a vegetarian – yes, somehow my vegetarian friends still actually speak to me. Alas, The Eagle had not landed for her as they had already run out of vegetarian roast dinners by 2pm. However, she enjoyed her vegetarian burger so much she had to check that it wasn’t actually meat.
Where is the Comic Sans button
As I’ve already pertained to, the gravy was polluted by the swede – even adding extra gravy (which we had to order two lots of) didn’t help, though it at least diluted the swede flavour. No idea what it was supposed to taste of and it was rather on the thin side.
Overall I thought it was a credible roast.
Everything was kind of good enough. Is that a compliment? Well I’ve had many worse roast dinners, though it was a long way from impressing.
My only real criticism is the swede pollution of the gravy, and hence everything tasting a bit of swede. Yet nothing especially impressed. Roast potatoes were acceptable, the yorkie was acceptable. The chicken was fine. Everything was just kind of fine.
Even the service was fine. They forgot to add the service charge – which has become so common that most of us didn’t realise and hence didn’t tip.
The Eagle was fine
Everyone else around the table was much more enthusiastic than me. One rating it a 9 out of 10 (first time he’d joined us and clearly hasn’t read any of my reviews). Others scored either 7.5 or 8, and perhaps I would have been more enamoured had I chosen the beef instead, which was far superior to the acceptable chicken.
I don’t think The Eagle will let you down if you choose to roast here. This is a credible, perfectly acceptable roast (bar the swede/gravy faus pas) and maybe I’m underscoring it due to that initial annoyance, maybe I just couldn’t psychologically get over it. That said, I could easily have rated it much lower.
A score of 7.03 seems about fair.
Next Sunday I was going somewhere that I think could be a roast dinner winner, to celebrate my 125th review. I even have a special guest. Alas, I have miscounted and it will be my 127th review.